


hell, michigan

by weefaol



Series: fifty states [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Desperation, Feminization, Incest Kink, M/M, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 00:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11324604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weefaol/pseuds/weefaol
Summary: Sam's got an itch he can't quite scratch. Dean's just desperate enough to finger at the edges.





	hell, michigan

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [spnkinkbingo](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spnkinkbingo_2017). Also posted on [Tumblr](http://weefaol.tumblr.com/post/162341068614/hell-michigan).

Half-past two in a darkened motel room just outside of Hell, Michigan. The AC is busted and it’s so hot Sam can’t sleep. He’s sticky. Sweat-slicked and saccharine. Waiting for someone to drag their ass back home after last call at the watering hole.  


Fidget, twitch. Sam’s got an itch he can’t quite scratch. He can press into it though. Sweet, baby blue bruises.  


Sam’s ripe for the plucking. Put your fingers on him and he’ll drip honey-nectar.

~ ~ ~

Sam’s ears prickle with the low pound of a bowlegged gait, legs spindling and stumble-fucked. Punch-drunk.  


_Brother._  


Sam grins like a wolf in the dark when he hears the soft key clicks poking at the lock. _Ticky, ticky, tick._ Like a morse code spelled out. _Sicky, sicky, sick._  


Easy to decrypt.  


The door creaks open, a Winchester silhouette dark and heavy against the neon VACANCY sign. Untenanted. Unfilled. A sweet little space to rent for the night. To let.  


Dean steps inside, smelling of smoke and whiskey. Swings the door shut behind him. “Sammy-baby, you ‘wake?”  


Sam never shuts-eye. Paranormal activities like these eclipse all dreams. “Am now, asshole.” He turns over on his side, stretching to show off the new muscles on his chest, belly, hips. Teenage boy brawn, no longer hidden under baby fat.  


Dean makes a drunken _psshhh_ sound, waves his hand. “You were waitin’ up for me, like always.” Tosses his jacket at the chair. Misses. Pulls off his flannel and T-shirt like a Tuesday night stripper. “So predictable, Sammy.”  


Sam bites his lip. He’s hungry for how that amulet – _his_ – smacks against his brother’s chest. Predatory and possessive. His cock twitches. Because both of them know which one _really_ owns the other. Which one pulls the heart-strings and which one unspools for baby pink pouts, puppydog eyes, and shakes of shaggy-hair.  


Dean Winchester is charred and collared.

~ ~ ~ 

Brotherhood comes with keeping up appearances. So at night, Dean goes to dive bars, mills around truck stop parking lots. Prime whore-finding real estate. He pretends he’s normal. Flirts with 'em like he’s not poisoned on the inside, just like Sam. But his wanton heart’s not in it.  


They’re well-aware.  


Sam smirks, a taunt. “Any luck?”  


Dean shrugs. Tugs off his jeans and topples over. “No decent girls in this shit hole.” He’s face down on the mattress behind Sam, prone position, making sugary little _ahhs_ and _mmms_.  


Sam’s body flushes hot. Dick swells. He’s got a bad, bad case of the jitters. His skin crawls, infested.  


_Incested_.  


"What’re you gonna do about it?” hums Sam, wriggles his ass back ’til he hits hipbone.  


Dean shifts, slotting them together. His cock presses, needy, through thinning boxer shorts, against the baby boy curve. “Nothin’,” he says, whiskey-warm breath ghosting the back of Sam’s neck. “I’m a good big brother.” Drags his cigarette-stained lips over pallid-soft skin.  


Sam devil-drags with him, fattens up big brother’s dogged dick. “Not always.”  


Dean whimpers, bites down on young skin. “Quit it, Sammy. You’re makin’ me all hard and shit.” Buries his head in the crook of Sam’s neck and bucks his hips. Groans. “Haven’t fucked a girl in forever.”  


Sam’s eyes flash black in the hell dark. Devil-children always win. He pushes his well-worn boxers down, nudges at the peeping wet tip of Dean’s cock with his sun-kissed hole.  


"Not a girl, Dean,” he growls, low and feral. “But you can fuck me like one.”


End file.
